


A Little Persuasion

by yuko_shadowsbane



Category: League of Legends
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/F, Nipple Play, Porn With Plot, Yuko's Sexual Awakening tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-08
Updated: 2018-02-08
Packaged: 2019-03-15 13:18:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13614162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuko_shadowsbane/pseuds/yuko_shadowsbane
Summary: Yuko's first meeting with the Dark Sovereign. It doesn't go at all how she would have expected. A bit of plot, but not a ton.





	A Little Persuasion

**Author's Note:**

> Read more about Yuko on my profile (http://archiveofourown.org/users/yuko_shadowsbane/profile) and my Tumblr page (https://yuko-shadowsbane.tumblr.com/post/169322600002/yuko-the-shadows-bane). Potentially open to RP! :)

Walking the length of Ionia was like returning to an old, recurring dream. Though this was the first time Yuko had set foot on the island, she remembered it from her mother's stories. It was every bit as beautiful as she'd described, and it was just enough to quiet the sting of the council's refusal.

She grit her teeth as she traveled the narrow mountain path, remembering the look of disdain in their eyes as she made her case. They didn't care about anything she had to say – the Black Mist, or the imbalance it spoke of – all they saw in her was traitor, outsider, _Noxian_. Never mind that her mother had grown up here, had raised her on tales of Ionia during their exile to Bilgewater. That Yuko _existed_ was reason enough to discount anything she said.

'Return to your post,' they'd commanded, 'and keep us informed.' They didn't understand, couldn't know the threat the mist posed. In her task, Yuko was alone. But she could at least enjoy Ionia while she was here, and so she hiked, eyes flickering over the picturesque scenery.

Her mother had spoken of the Rusagi Temple many times, of how the mages' wisdom was unparalleled, and that their magic had been instrumental in turning back the Noxian invasion. Sohka had gone into exquisite detail when she described the temple's elaborate structure, and the rites the mages performed. But she had never once mentioned that the temple was… floating.

It was there when Yuko reached the top of the hill, earth and stone suspended in the clouds and a deep gash beneath it in the ground, a hole where it used to rest. She was taken aback at the sight, blinking and shading her eyes from the sun, but there it hovered, defiant and strange. She was so distracted that she was fortunate to notice a rush of air at her back, leaping to the side at the last possible moment.

Two spheres whistled through the air, crashing into the ground beside her. They were trembling with dark energy – she'd never seen anything like them before. “You look lost,” a voice hummed, effortless and threatening. Yuko's hand sought the sword at her side, fingers clutching the hilt as she turned.

It was a woman, as strange and defiant as the floating temple, her long, white hair crackling with magical energy. More spheres were suspended at her sides, as though waiting for an order. She gave one with a simple gesture of her hand, and the orbs howled as they rushed towards Yuko. She was so taken aback that one of them hissed past her calf, leaving a gash of exposed, stinging skin.

“Wait,” Yuko blurted.

“No,” the woman replied. An orb materialized at her feet with a loud hum, rising to fulfill its master's will. She was clearly a mage, but her manner was off. She couldn't be part of the temple, not unless things had changed drastically in the years since Sohka left Ionia. Regardless, it was clear enough that she didn't want to talk. Without another choice, Yuko drew her blade, one hand on the hilt and the other on its chain.

At first, they were as evenly matched as could be. The mage kept Yuko at a safe distance with the force of her orbs, and Yuko was agile enough to avoid most of the blows. But as time wore on, Yuko’s body tired. Both of them could sense it, and the Sovereign was ruthless, taking every opening to damage the swordswoman. Eventually, desperate, Yuko dashed behind the mage in a flash of green smoke, thrusting her sword at the woman’s back. It was enough to land a glancing blow on her side, blade slicing her exposed skin. The white-haired woman exhaled in a hiss, which quickly twisted into a laugh.

“How amusing you’ve turned out to be. I’d hate to waste you.” So saying, she waved her hand, and Yuko tensed as an invisible power washed over her.

The mage levitated Yuko into the air, dragging her along behind as she ascended to the temple. Once inside, she cast Yuko aside carelessly, cackling again as the exhausted warrior fell to her knees. “Get up, plaything. I’m not finished with you.”

The inner temple was set up like a dojo, just as Yuko’s mother had described. This must be the place from her stories, though this mage’s attitude was nothing like Sohka had mentioned. “Where are the other mages?” Yuko asked, getting to her feet.

“I destroyed them. Just as I destroy all who get in my way. As I shall destroy you.”

“I have no quarrel with you. I don’t even know who you are.”

The mage seemed to bristle a bit at that. “No? Well soon all of Ionia will know my will. I’m the most powerful being on this pathetic island.” With that, she struck, and Yuko was forced into the fight again, mind racing. The most powerful being in Ionia? Could that be true?

She had power like Yuko had never seen before - she’d barely broken a sweat through their fight, had lifted Yuko into the air like she was nothing. The temple must have been suspended by her powers, too. And if what she said about the other mages was true, then she was stronger than anything Yuko had faced as of yet. It wasn’t much of a stretch to believe what she was saying.

The wounds Yuko managed to inflict on her opponent were nothing in comparison to the injuries she bore. Still, she fought until her aching legs gave out, and she fell to her knees again, breathless.

The mage smirked. “Had enough?” When Yuko nodded, she met Yuko’s shoulder with a forceful hand, pushing the other woman onto her back. Yuko made no attempt to resist- just watched, panting, as the mage straddled her.

“I  _am_ curious about one thing. You possess magical power- you’d never have landed a blow otherwise. But it was only ever to move, or augment your sword, so you must not be very powerful.”

“I - I don’t know the limits of my abilities, or... why I can do what I do. I never had a teacher, I just - fight.”

The mage’s lip curled. “Teachers are useless. All they ever do is hold you back.”

“If you’re this strong without guidance, then I believe you.” Yuko’s awe was apparent from her tone. The mage soaked it up like a plant in the sun. “Please... I need to know your name.”

“So it knows how to beg.” She leaned down, white hair spilling over Yuko’s chest as she whispered in the warrior’s ear, “Syndra.”

Something stirred in Yuko. “You - you must be Ionia’s answer to the Harrowing. To the Black Mist. I’ve spent my life studying it - it’s the greatest danger that Runeterra faces. Every year, it billows out from somewhere beyond the horizon, killing all it touches. No one knows what it is, or how to drive it back. But  _you_ -!”

“Black Mist?” She snorted condescendingly. “That hardly sounds like a challenge.”

“I swear to you, it is. Any power I possess comes from the Mist - and you said I amused you, didn’t you? I fight the things in the Mist. If my abilities mean anything, then the enemies in the Mist are worth your amusement too.” She laid her hands on Syndra’s hips - Syndra didn’t brush them away. “Help me defeat it. It must be your destiny,  _our_ destiny. I’ll do...  _any_ thing.”

“Anything?” Syndra purred. She reached for Yuko’s hands, grasping them, guiding them along her thighs. Yuko shivered each time cloth parted to reveal a sliver of skin. “Surely you realize what a precious thing you’re offering.”

“Defeating the Mist is worth more than my life.”

“Well...” Syndra hummed the word, easing almost imperceptibly into Yuko’s touch. “It would have to wait until I destroy the Ionian council, but perhaps I could be... convinced.”

Yuko’s heart raced at the feeling of the mage’s soft skin beneath her fingertips. It was nothing like her own, scarred and wind-chafed. Syndra’s was smooth, unblemished, undeniably perfect.

Tentatively, she splayed her fingers over the other woman’s leg, her outermost digits whispering against the mage’s inner thighs. Syndra hummed her approval, so Yuko pressed on, exploring the pockets of bare skin in her outfit. Her fingers danced beneath Syndra’s skirt, brushing the thin fabric of her underwear, her breath catching at the shape of the delicate crease it covered. The mage sat up ever so slightly as Yuko did so.

Boldly, Yuko traced the contours of Syndra’s crotch and thighs, noting the way she moved into the contact when her fingers brushed against her underwear. She could feel the gentle knob of tissue swelling slightly beneath her fingertips. It was magnetic, enticing her to limit her touch to the space just between Syndra’s thighs. The mage grinded against Yuko’s fingers, biting her lip. Then, suddenly, she sat up, shuffling higher on her knees. “Your mouth,” she demanded, her pelvis suspended over Yuko’s chin.

Yuko pulled Syndra’s hips down gently, hooking the mage’s underwear on her fingers and tucking the garment out of the way. She couldn’t help but stare at the fine patch of hair and sensual shape it hid, only for a moment.

Her heart still pounding wildly, she pressed a soft, chaste kiss against Syndra’s lips. Syndra purred at the contact, so Yuko kissed her again. And again. And again. Her innocent pecks transformed as her lips parted, tongue sweeping tentatively out of her mouth. Syndra’s satisfied gasp told her everything she needed to know.

She caressed Syndra with her lips and tongue, listening eagerly to each moan, acutely aware of every twitch. Syndra leaned forward with increasing insistence, eventually arching her back into the contact, propping herself up by leaning her arms behind her, palms on Yuko’s chest. She squeezed Yuko’s breasts, making the Noxian half-blood more aware of the crushing pressure between her legs, of the need that was bubbling within her. Being touched by Syndra was enough to make her moan, the sound coming out as a hum, her mouth pressed fully against Syndra; in turn, the vibration drew a cry of pleasure from the mage.

Surrendering to the heat between them, Yuko slid her hands hungrily upwards, stroking Syndra’s sides, hands finding holds on the mage’s enticing breasts. When she started to rub, the sensation of Syndra’s hardened nipples made her growl with lust, tracing over and around them with eager fingers. The mage was soaking wet, her pleasure running down Yuko’s chin, honey spilling into her mouth with each lick. “More,” Syndra commanded, eyes squeezed shut with abandon, “give me... everything.”

Yuko’s kisses were heavy and desperate, increasing in tempo, squeezing and tugging at Syndra’s nipples. She looked up at her newfound master, watching the way she writhed. The sensation of another woman’s breasts in her hands was intoxicating, her gaze falling to them, watching the way they gave in some places and held firm in others. Still teasing at the mage’s nipples, she began to move her hands up and down, jostling Syndra’s gorgeous breasts, the pressure in her core swelling at the sight. Syndra moaned again, loudly, and it was too much. Yuko came, hips grinding hungrily at nothing, her breath catching in surprise. She managed to keep tonguing, though her tempo slowed considerably.

Syndra was taken by surprise too, staring wide-eyed down at Yuko. “You -“ she started, her shock turning to realization, then ecstasy. Her hips rocked back and forth against Yuko’s mouth, her voice rising in a final shrill of pleasure. Yuko kept going until the mage’s hips were still, and then she leaned back and panted, still coming down from her own high.

“I didn’t even touch you,” Syndra hummed, smirking down at her triumphantly.

Yuko nodded, dazed. Just the sight of her, the  _feel_ of her...

“What a good little plaything you are. Perhaps I  _should_  keep you.” She grasped Yuko’s chin in her hands roughly. “What do they call you, little wraith?”

“Yuko,” the warrior breathed.

“Yuko,” Syndra repeated. From her lips it sounded like a spell, a power word that bound Yuko to her for all eternity. “I suppose that will do.”


End file.
